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SYCHOPHANTS & PSYCHOS, SHOTS?
Begin before you even start questioning the age of the reader, if you can read, the Word’s you
Now and then, there’s a function of a flute and the wind to connect you to where you belong
Space’s place and Time’s momentous occasion which gains momentum in the dream, a song
Completely surrendered to the boiled liquid of the Agave, on a trip ordain Cheech and Chong.
Burned your filth from the aliens who produce the chemicals to delete the human genome
Chemistry mixed with a #Fakehumanity philosophy of life, 4p + 5O2 yields 2P2O5 to come
On the scale of trebles and clefs built into the complex DNA within the acid, star leakin’ flow
Moving light’s waves into glucose particles between quarks of charm, methane bubbles blow.
But that is Life as we know it, far away from any Twilight Zone in the mind of mankind, One
Two or more up to the top of the heap, top of the pyramid, built to remain, to avoid a topple
Pointlessness with a point, a sound, a sight, a taste, a smell a feeling inside or out, we become
Just a shot in a glass, a shot in the dark, clear light from the firmament, a Voice of the people.
Rock hard, rolling and bowling balls up and down the alleys of pins and needles, a 300 score
My drinking and eating got to me and you, we exploded and imploded with the squeegeeing
Getting the muck and mire all in one place, gathered to disintegrate the mass of Earthen core
Used to be a hot, burning star and is losing energy, byte by byte into the Ether’s biosphering.
Hunger for the menu-do, the pizza, the flesh of the animals in unidentified chunks and slices
Pairing your cellphone and your mates with your ID number and your place in time’s vices
Everything known to us, known to civilized humanity, voided by brothers doin’ the #Dozens
Alcoholics are not anonymous, we are them, we drink it, we are the #Redox of the heavens.
Oh, but wait, fluorine bonding with sodium yielding my spirit’s #Redox reaction, combustion
My holy and sacred mud and blood are the building atoms of a thing itself, a form of fake fun
A move on a boring trip through the empty cosmos becomes your and my experience drought
Ending as it began, in an inaudible puff of wind with nowhere to go, up nor down, I am out!
Cactus in the desert with the liquid that keeps the Earth in it’s altered state of consciousness
Keep the mushrooms and the ground up bark of ancient trees away from my face, countess
All seven holes in my form reject the foreign bodies clamoring for entry at the wall, the gate
Either this is all there is or it isn’t, if there’s more, bring it on, here we go, let us roll, mate!
by
r j j stephan, i { *Header is Milagro Tequila bottle of power! OM Carlos Santana }
c. Friday February 1, 2019 A.D. @ 9:11 AM PST
{ drafted while immersed in the platinum edition of #CanyonTrilogy #AirFlowFlute of @R.CarlosNakai #RCarlosNakia on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/XHdOSMpZ1_w }
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W.W.A.R.D.?
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